The bank president keyed a number into her phone and was soon giving orders to someone.
“Hector, you told me that one of our guards is a sniper. Have him get a rifle from our armory. I want him up on our roof, now! Anyone else who was ever in the military, get them up there too with a rifle. As for the rest, I need any and all guards we have at the main entrance to the bank. I want their guns drawn.”
Shit, they have an armory? At a bank?
Señora Azua paused. “Dammit, do you think I don’t know it’s Carnival? I don’t care how few guards are working, you get the rest of them to the lobby, right now.” Eden thought she was going to laugh. She’d never noticed the resemblance until right now, but this kick-ass woman was just like her mother! “Hector, we’ll be pulling up with three black Escalades. I want the doors open and ready for us to enter. As soon as we’re all in, slam those doors shut behind us.”
There was one more pause. “Good. I’m counting on you.”
“Team, we have a plan,” Eden said into the radio.
Through the radio, Eden could hear shots being fired.
“Who’s being shot at?” she demanded.
“This is car three. I’m fine. What’s the plan?” The driver’s voice was hoarse. Eden recognized him as Patel.
“This is Rivers in car two, one of our tires has been blown. We can’t keep this up. Tell me that we’re going to be able to stop soon.”
“Tell me what is going on,” Schlessinger yelled at Eden in French. “Where is our security team?”
Sunbathing in Aruba.
They rounded another corner and their driver laid on the horn. Señora Azua was giving further directions to the bank.
“Eden! I demand that you answer me,” Schlessinger commanded.
Eden felt her fist clench as she quelled the urge to hit the Swiss man’s doughy face. Not. Going. To. Hit. Him. “You need to be quiet so I can hear what’s going on. Our lives depend on us being calm,” she enunciated every French word slowly and precisely.
“Shut your damned mouth, Maurice,” the British banker barked from the back seat.
Schlessinger might not’ve understood English, but he caught Leland’s tone. The Swiss man squeezed his lips shut, which allowed Eden the opportunity to concentrate on the voices coming out of the radio. She heard more shooting. Dammit.
“How much longer to the bank?” She yelled her question at Suzanne above the squealing tires.
“Another kilometer.”
Eden flinched when more bullets exploded against their SUV.
“They’re beside us,” the Brit bellowed. “Speed up.”
“Hold on.” That was the only warning the driver gave them before he rammed the bumper into the side of the large jeep that was shooting at them.
Please God, let us get out of this alive.
“Carlson, you maniac, you’ll kill us all,” the fat man screeched in French.
Three people yelled shut up in two different languages. They might not know what he was saying, but every single person was sick of his petulant squeals.
More bullets hit their armored vehicle. Eden was pissed off when she felt herself wince again. She needed to man-up—this SUV was built like a tank, for God’s sake!
Hot, sticky air suddenly suffused the interior of the Escalade. Carlson had his right arm braced over his left, his right hand holding a gun, the left on the steering wheel. Eden followed the sight of his gun and watched as he sprayed bullets into the interior of the jeep. Gusts of red plumed into the air. The jeep veered into the next lane where a tractor-trailer slammed into it.
“Fuck! Señora, how bad are you hit?” Carlson yelled.
Eden looked away from the jeep and saw blood dripping down Señora Azua’s neck.
“There, on the left.” The woman’s voice was hoarse, but Eden could understand her. She can’t be hurt too bad, but that bleeding needs to be stopped.
Señora Azua slumped against the front seat. “The bank is on the left.” She pointed to a tall building across the meridian.
“The bank is on the left. The gates are open,” Eden informed the others on the radio.
Now Señora Azua was whispering something.
“What the hell is she saying, Eden?” Carlson demanded to know.
Eden damn near crawled over the seat so she could put her ear next to Suzanne’s mouth.
“Say it again,” she coaxed in Spanish.
“Go up to the traffic circle,” Señora Azua waved her hand at the windshield. Eden looked up ahead. With people setting up for Carnival, the zoo was already beginning to start. The driving looked like a cross between Paris and Mumbai. We’re screwed.
“You need to go to the traffic circle to get to the bank,” Eden told Carlson.
“Hold on,” Carlson said again.
Eden heard the Swiss banker whimper as he clutched at his leather seat, but he didn’t need to worry. The man driving their car cut off three other vehicles as he sped into the traffic circle. It was all a matter of dominance. The security specialist was supremely confident and every other driver on the road got out of his way. She just prayed that the two other members of his team following them would be as well-trained.
“Good. Good.” Suzanne gasped. “There.” Again, she waved weakly toward a gleaming building that was surrounded by a high security fence.
Eden looked out the rear window and saw one of the two other Escalades behind them. “Check in. I only see one of the two,” Eden snapped into the radio.
“Patel here.”
Then there was silence.
